I believe this picture was taken in 1984, perhaps in the autumn of 1985. I'm the little kid in the blue jumper and white t-shirt kneeling down at the edge of the corn. My little brother, J.P., is in the middle of it. Grandpa is in the back, and my mom is standing with her back to us. I remember when this happened and how I thought it was one of the most delightful accidents that could ever occur. J.P. and I trampled through it, tried to make corn angels, made it snow corn, tried swimming in corn, etc. I lost one of my shoes, and then we got to treasure hunt for it (we never found it). For all of Grandpa's faults, I am grateful that he wasn't the type of person who kept kids out of the way. He would rather have kids romping through a mess than be alone cleaning it up. Tipping a grain wagon over obviously equals a very bad day, but whatever bad mood Grandpa may have been in didn't distance him from us. Kids underfoot remained a very good thing.
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